Tonight and the Rest of My Life
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: Chris Jericho gets to know the Big Red Machine... *Slash*
1. Part I

Disclaimer: I own nothing but myself, and I'm not even in this thing!

Set during the whole WWF vs ECWCW thingy...

**Tonight and the Rest of My Life**

Part I

"If you stare at that thing any harder," started Chris Jericho, "it'll burst into flames."

For the past fifteen minutes Kurt Angle, aka The Olympic Champion, had stood motionless in the middle of the hallway. His mind was entirely fixed on the envelope gripped in his hand. A kind of grim determination etched his face and Chris had been strongly compelled to watch him.

_I think he's about to go snap, crackle, and pop… And I've got a front row seat!_

"I'm supposed to deliver this letter," Kurt said, finally. "But I don't know if I should."

"Well, who's it from? And who is it for?"

"I can't tell you who it's from exactly. I promised him that I wouldn't read it and I wouldn't say who it's from."

"So…what's the problem?"

"Well, the guy's from the Alliance. How do I know that it's not some kinda trick?"

"Easy," Chris said. He took the letter from Kurt's hands, tearing open the plain white envelope. Leaning against a nearby door, he began reading it. "Looks like a fan letter. And it's for Kane!"

"Uh, Chris? I wouldn't do that."

"Why not? I gotta make sure there's nothin' bad about us in this. This guy could be trying to start some sort of inter-federation conflict or something. I'm just looking out for our well-being."

"You're just using that as an excuse to be nosey."

Chris waved the pages under Kurt's nose. "You mean to tell me that you aren't the _teensiest_ bit curious about what a guy from the other team wants with the Big Red Machine?"

Kurt was silent.

_Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back…_

As he reached the bottom of the page, his eyes opened wide in surprise.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, almost frantic. "What does it say? No wait, I don't wanna know."

"What kind of person would write this – " His words were cut off as the door he was leaning on opened and he tumbled into the room. He looked up from his landing spot to find two large men standing over him.

"Can we help you?" Taker said.

"Umm... Special delivery for Kane," Chris said. He held the letter up to Kane.

"And why are you readin' my brother's mail?"

"Uh… well… ya see... it's from a member of the Alliance. And I was just trying to make sure there wasn't anything bad in it."

"Like what?" Taker asked. "Anthrax?"

"Well… no... I don't think..." For one of the few times in his life, Chris was at a loss for words. "Hey, Kurt!" he yelled. "Little help..."

Kurt poked his head in the doorway. "I told him not to read it," he said.

"Oohh... big help," Chris said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks a lot." Chris got up off the floor and brushed himself off.

"What's it say?" Taker asked.

Kane handed Taker the first page as he started on the second. "Fan mail," he said.

"From someone in the Alliance? I doubt that."

"Oh, it's fan mail all right. This guy is a big fan."

"How do you know it's a guy?"

"Read the last paragraph on the second page."

Grabbing the second page, Taker read aloud. " 'I watch you day and night, my dark angel. The way you move, muscles flexing and bulging beneath your sweaty skin. The way you always stand so tall, always on your own and always so far away from me. I watch and I wait for that perfect moment when you will finally see me and long for me as I do for you. I wait and I dream of us becoming one as I enter you and make you mine.' "

"Whoa," Kurt said. "No amount of therapy will ever erase that image."

"Well, looks like someone's hot for Kane," Chris said.

Grabbing the rest of the letter, Kane stuffed the pages into a nearby waste basket. "Someone's idea of a sick joke," he said. He picked up his bag and left the locker room. Taker followed him.

"Well," Kurt started. "I guess that's the end of that." He too left.

Chris was about to leave, when he noticed the letter lying in the basket. For some unknown reason, it intrigued him that someone, especially another man, would have those kinds of feelings for Kane. He took the letter from the trash and put the pages in his back pocket.


	2. Part II

**

Tonight and the Rest of My Life

**

Part II 

  


Chris sat on the bed, watching TV as Kurt emerged from the bathroom. He hadn't exactly been thrilled to be rooming with Kurt in the beginning, but he was starting to grow on him. "Dammit, Kurt," Chris said, not taking his eyes from the television screen. "What took you so damn long in there?" When he did finally look in Kurt's direction, he knew the answer. After taking a rather long shower, Kurt was wearing a pair of gray pants, a white button down shirt, and a gray vest. "You're looking mighty spiffy tonight?" 

Kurt sat on his own bed which was next to Chris's. "Thanks," he said. He bent over and began putting on his shoes. 

Leaning over, Chris could smell his cologne. "You smell good too. What's the occasion?" 

"No occasion," Kurt said, his cheeks slightly pink. "I'm just going to check out an all night bookstore." 

"Oh... Okay." 

After putting on his shoes, Kurt grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. "Don't wait up," he said. 

"An all night bookstore," Chris said to himself. "Yeah right. Those clothes plus cologne equals hot date." He flipped through the channels and finally came to the conclusion that there was nothing decent on television. "At least he has plans." Chris glanced over and saw his coat hanging on the back of a nearby chair. Sticking out of one of the pockets were pieces of paper. The letter, he thought. Might as well find something to amuse myself. 

After removing the pages from his pocket, he sat back on the bed. Kicking off his shoes and settling back against the pillows, he picked up where he had left off. The comment about Kane's ring attire was only the tip of the iceberg. Whoever this guy was, he was obviously serious about the Big Red Machine. There was talk of longing and loving, touching and tasting. After reading five pages of sentimental prose, Chris felt as if someone had suddenly turned up the temperature in the room. His palms were sweaty and his body was warm. But it was a good kind of warm. A kind of warmth that he had never felt before. 

"A walk," he said out loud, gasping for breath. The room suddenly felt about 10 sizes too small. "I need some fresh air." He put his shoes back on, grabbed his jacket and left the room. 

Chris walked down the block. He left his jacket open, the cold breeze cooling his skin, allowing the tingling sensation to subside. God, he thought. I need a drink. Anything to stop the thoughts that the letter brought to his mind. Realizing that the chaos of a bar or club would not lessen his confused feelings, he spotted a store at the end of the block, hoping that it sold alcohol. 

He entered the store, shading his eyes against the light until they were able to adapt. Walking to the back of the store, he stopped in front of the refrigerators. As he peaked inside each one, trying to make up his mind, he unconsciously began singing along with the song that was being broadcast over the speakers. "I feel so light," he began. "This is all I want to feel tonight. I feel so light." Movement at the other end of the aisle attracted his attention and as he sang the last line of the chorus, his gaze fell upon a tall figure dressed in black. "Tonight and the rest of my life." There, at the other end, stood Kane, wearing tight fitting black jeans and a black t-shirt. Chris couldn't keep his eyes from traveling along his body, taking in all seven feet of him. 

The warmth and tingling had returned in full force. He put his forehead against the frosty glass of the refrigerator, trying to get his breathing back to normal. When the tightness in his chest had subsided, he glanced back over to where Kane had been, only to see the rest of the aisle was empty. Not wanting to risk seeing him again, Chris reached into the fridge and pulled out 3 forty ounce bottles. He carried them to the register, paid, and quickly left the store. Once outside, he leaned against a nearby streetlamp to get his bearings. The cold air felt good to him and he closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. 

Feeling pressure on his shoulder, his eyes slowly opened and were met by a pair of soft blue ones. Groaning inwardly, Chris tried to act normal. 

"You okay?" Kane asked. 

"Yeah," Chris said. The tightness in his chest had returned as well as one in his lower region. Not understanding what was happening to him, he only wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, ending his misery. 

"Good. Cause you looked like you were about ready to puke." 

"No, no... I'm fine." He ran his fingers through his blond hair, trying to erase his disheveled appearance. "Really. I'm fine." 

"Whatever you say." 

Kane picked up the case of Fosters that laid at his feet and proceeded down the block. Chris followed behind him, trying to keep up. They walked back to the hotel in silence. Chris, not knowing what to say, made a few random Stephanie slut jokes. Although he didn't bust out laughing, it did appear to him that Kane was at least acknowledging his existence. They entered the hotel and got on the elevator. The ride, like their walk, was silent. Chris finally came up with something intelligent to say. 

"So, where's Taker?" 

"Don't know," Kane said. "He mentioned something about an all night bookstore and then took off." 

"Really? Kurt said he was going to an all night bookstore, too. Maybe they'll meet up." Realizing what kind of implications his statement might have made, Chris cursed himself for opening his big mouth. The elevator doors opened and they both stepped out. Since they were staying in rooms at the opposite ends of the hall, Chris waved good bye to Kane, who merely nodded and headed on his way. 

Chris entered his room, put the bottles down on a nearby table, and threw himself, face down, on his bed. He didn't know what was going on with him or how to make it stop. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he wanted it to stop. But what he did know was that he was gonna get piss ass drunk or pass out trying. As be began to polish off his second forty ounce, boredom set in again. Since he was obviously intoxicated and feeling quite brave, he called down to the front desk to ask for a room telephone number. He dialed the number and waited. The phone rang about three times before someone answered. 

"Hello?" Kane said. 

Chris paused as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. The warmth flooded back to him and he knew it wasn't just the alcohol. He heard the voice on the other end ask who it was. Jericho answered before he lost his nerve. "Heya Kane! Wazzup!!" 

"Who is this?" 

"It's me, silly. Chris Jericho." 

There was silence on the other end of the line. 

"You still there?" 

"...Yes." 

"Good!" 

"Uh... Chris? Are you okay?" 

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just had a few forty ounces." 

"Ah! I see... you're plastered." 

"Just a little. What are you up to tonight?" 

"Nothing." 

"Drinkin a couple beers?" 

"Yeah. A few." 

"You know what, Kane? We've never had a real heart to heart talk." 

"Yeah... I guess that's true..." 

"Well, I think there's no time like the present. I think we should get to know each other better." 

For the next few hours, Chris and Kane talked about everything and nothing. They talked about family, friends, and work. About their favorite movies, music, and food. They joked about the fights they've had with each other and were too shitfaced to care about insulting each other. As the late hours of the night turned into the wee hours of the morning, a connection was made between the Big Red Machine and the Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah. And it was only the beginning. 


	3. Part III

**

Tonight and the Rest of My Life

**

Part III 

  


Hiding in the shadows, Rhyno waited for his contact. After standing outside in the parking lot of the arena, he finally saw Kurt Angle leaving the lot. For the past few weeks, Angle had been Rhyno's connection to the WWF. Actually, it was only one member of that federation that concerned him. Knowing that Angle was a man of integrity, Rhyno had approached him, asking for his assistance in delivering some personal letters. Kurt was hesitant at first, fearing what the other wrestlers would do if they found out he was helping a member of the Alliance. But he was finally persuaded. So, every week, Rhyno would find Kurt and hand him his handwritten, anonymous letter, which would be delivered to Kane after the show. But tonight would be different. Tonight, Rhyno had decided to finally reveal himself to the one he cared for with all his heart. This letter being the final one, he signed his name at the bottom. As Kurt got closer to his hiding spot, Rhyno came out of the shadows. 

"If it isn't our Olympic hero," Rhyno said. 

After looking around to make sure that no one else was around, Angle approached the Man Beast. "I don't think I can do this for you anymore," he said. "What if someone finds out? Then both our asses are on the line." 

"Don't worry, Kurt. This is the last one. I won't be needing your services after tonight." 

"Really? Why?" 

"I have my reasons. Anyway, I thought you would be happy." 

"Oh, I am. Believe me. I am." 

Rhyno handed Kurt the letter and Kurt left the lot. Rhyno was about to leave as well, when he heard footsteps in the distance. Returning to his spot in the shadows, he was pleased to see Kane approaching. Dressed in street clothes, Rhyno couldn't help admiring his broad chest and massive arms. Soon, he thought. Soon. His smile quickly faded when he saw Chris Jericho running to catch up with Kane. When he finally caught up with him, he would purposely ram himself into Kane, who would shove him away. But it was a playful shove, Rhyno noticed. He was seething. He couldn't imagine why he was being nice. Especially to that imp Jericho. They couldn't possibly be friends, Rhyno thought. Although he couldn't be sure, he could swear that there was something different about Jericho's behavior. It wasn't the usual Jokester Jericho antics that he was up to. Deep down, Rhyno knew what it was. But he couldn't bring himself to believe it. To think that Y2Jerk was... in love! Lightning flashed in his eyes as they passed by him unnoticed. After they entered the arena, Rhyno soon entered as well, heading for the Alliance locker room. 

~*~

Rhyno was very proud of himself. He had made it half way through the night without exploding. Although the scene from earlier that night was constantly replaying in his mind, he refused to let his anger rage out of control. Otherwise, the others would get suspicious. So he kept to himself, as usual. He was glad that the locker room was empty. That way, no one would bother him. No sooner had he thought that when Stephanie McMachon- Helmsley walked in. Although she did look rather slutty at times, he knew better than to say that. One shouldn't bite the hand that feeds him. She sauntered over to the bench he was sitting on and took a seat next to him. 

"Rhyno," she began. "You like it here in the Alliance, don't you?" 

"Yes," he said. 

"And like making me happy, don't you?" 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Well, it would make me very happy to know what the hell is going on between you and Kurt Angle!" 

Shocked that he had been found out, he tried to pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. But she made it known that she had surveillance footage of them in numerous conversations. And that documents were being exchanged. She demanded to know what was going on. 

"Nothing," he said. "It's personal and none of your business." 

"Really? Well, when your business might affect our business, then it BECOMES my business." 

"Well, it won't. My arrangement with him is over." 

"Arrangement? Were you two...?" 

"NO!" he yelled. "Do you think I would be interested in that dork?" 

"No," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "And I'm glad that it's over. That way, I don't have to mention this to anyone else. It remains just between the two of us." 

"Okay," he sighed. "Thank you." 

"You what else would make me REALLY happy?" 

He shook his head. "What?" 

"Well, you know Jericho and Kane have a tag match against RVD and Test. I'm not saying that our guys can't get the job done... I'm just saying, that just in case things don't go as we would like.... You could..." 

"Gore Jericho!" He was more than happy to do that. Not only for her, but for his peace of mind. 

"Kane." 

"What?" She couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying. 

"I want you to gore Kane." 

"What about Jericho?" 

"Oh, I've got other plans for him. You just take care of the Big Red Machine for me." She got up and practically skipped out the room. 

He couldn't believe what Stephanie was asking. The thought of attacking his dear Kane was too much. But he had to go along with Stephanie's orders. Or else he'd really be in deep. He just had to hope that RVD and Test got the job done. 

~*~

Chris walked up the ramp with Kane, victors of the match. The match had gone back and forth between the two teams, but after a chokeslam from Kane and Jericho doing his Lionsault, they had won. The fans were going mad and Chris couldn't have been happier. He and Kane had been a great team in the ring and they were getting closer by the day. Well, as close as Kane would let him, but close none the less even though it wasn't the kind of closeness that Chris was hoping for. Kane had stopped at the top of the ramp and raised his arm. Chris was right behind him, grinning like a damn fool, but he didn't care. This was the happiest he had been in a long time. 

Suddenly, things seemed to go in slow motion. Kane had just finished his salute and started walking. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw Rhyno heading right for Kane. Realizing Rhyno's intentions, Chris made a split second decision that he knew he would not regret. He rushed forward and, with inches to spare, shoved Kane out of harm's way. And then there was the impact. 

"GORE! GORE! GORE!" Paul Heyman yelled. 

"Good God," J.R. said. "Rhyno has just gored Chris Jericho. It looked like he was aiming for Kane, but missed." 

"Who cares, J.R.? Chris Jericho? Kane? What matters is that the Alliance has struck against the WWF." Heyman began laughing. "Did you see the way they flew off the ramp? THAT is poetry in motion." 

"They flew all right. They also landed on the concrete floor, AFTER bouncing off the railing holding back the audience. Aren't you at least a little worried about Rhyno?" 

"Nah! He's a strong boy. Besides, Jericho took the brunt of the blow anyway." 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the EMT's are making their way over to them now. Things are not looking good." 


	4. Part IV

**Tonight and the Rest of My Life**

Part IV 

  


"Looks like the good guys won," Taker said. 

He and Kurt Angle were standing backstage, watching Kane and Jericho's tag match. He had noticed the change in his brother's attitude and hoped that it was for the better. Since he wasn't always a good judge of character, Taker was at first worried for his little brother. But things could've been worse, Taker thought. He could be hanging out with a member of the Alliance. That would definitely be a conflict of interest as far as the industry was concerned. And Chris wasn't a bad guy by Taker's standards. Although a bit of a jokester, he did make Kane laugh, which was no small feat. And after a few brotherly talks with him, he could tell that there might be a chance for more than friendship there. Although Kane never said the words exactly, Taker could tell what his baby brother was going through. Seeing that there was no way Kane would get involved with another Diva, seeing as he trusted those women less than any of the other Superstars, Taker could only smile when he saw Kane and Chris Jericho together. About damn time he was happy, he thought. About damn time. 

"I say a post-match celebration is in order," Angle replied, breaking into Taker's thoughts. 

"Sure. But I don't think we should get any dancing girls." He noticed Kurt's confused expression and smiled. "I'll tell you later." 

The smiled was wiped from Taker's face when he saw Rhyno charge from behind the curtain and head for the duo. Because of the angle of the camera, Taker wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Chris push Kane out of the way and take the blow himself. Damn, he thought. The shit has really hit the fan. 

"What the hell's going on," Kurt asked, frantic. "What's happened?" 

"Don't know, but the EMTs are headin out there," he said as he headed out the door. "Let's go!" 

It was hard for Kurt to match Taker's stride, but he managed. "I'll check on Chris and ride with him to the hospital. You go get Kane. Damn Rhyno! I never thought he'd go after Kane like that..." 

Taker stopped mid step and turned on the Olympic champion. "What the hell do you mean? You know somethin I don't?" 

"Well..." Kurt hesitated. "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but to hell with it. You know all those secret admirer letters that Kane's been getting? Well, they're from Rhyno and he had me deliver them. I suddenly wish I hadn't. Actually... now that I think about it... I still have one to deliver. He said it would be the last one." 

"Let me get this straight," Taker started, running his fingers through his hair. "Rhyno has the hots for Kane. And I can bet that Kane wants nothing to do with Rhyno. But why the hell would he try to knock the shit outta Kane?" 

"Damned if I know. I just wanna make sure Chris is okay. And that Rhyno pays, that bastard." 

"You go and check on Chris. Go with him to the hospital if it comes to that. I'll get Kane. And if Rhyno's lucky, he'll be hurt real bad. Or else he's gonna have two angry brothers to deal with." Taker stormed down the hall towards the entrance ramp. 

~*~

After a grueling match that could've gone either way, Kane was more than glad that it had gone in their favor. Not just because it was a victory for Team WWF, but also because it meant that he and Chris worked well together in the ring. Maybe that would lead to more tag matches with him. As for out of the ring, he and Chris had really gotten close. They could even be referred to as "friends". Taker had hinted at him that they might be more than "just friends", but Kane hadn't really made up his mind about that. He wasn't sure how Chris felt and he wasn't about to ruin one of the closest friendships he's had in a long while. He had just given his one arm salute after getting to the top of the ramp when he felt a push on his back. Knocked off balance, he fell forward, landing on his hands and knees. 

"What the hell was that?" he asked Chris, facing him as he sat on the metal floor. Chris looked like he was about to apologize, but in a blink he was gone. He crawled to the edge of the stage and peered over. The sight would've brought the big man down if he hadn't already been on his knees. There lay Chris, sprawled out on his back with Rhyno on top of him. Kane wasn't sure how Chris had gotten down there, but he was damn sure it wasn't pleasant. He pushed me, Kane thought as reality began to sink in. The son of a bitch saved my ass. 

"You okay, bro?" 

Kane looked up and saw Taker standing next to him. Placing his hands under Kane's armpits, Taker lifted his brother to his feet. It was no easy task since Kane had basically become limp and was like a lead weight. He took Kane by the arm and lead him backstage. "You okay?", he asked again after he sat him down. 

"What?" Kane asked, dazed. "How?... Why?" 

"As far as I can tell, Rhyno came charging from behind the curtain and you were the intended target. And Chris pushed you out of the way. Unfortunately, he wasn't quick or bright enough to move out of the way himself. He's being checked on now and Kurt's with him. And you and I are going to check on Rhyno." 

"Why the hell would we do that? That bastard tried to knock my lights out." 

"And wouldn't you like to get him back for it?" 

"Yeah! Let's go!" 

He got up and started down the hall with Taker on his heels. They were about to turn the corner when they heard voices. Recognizing one of them, Taker stopped Kane from rounding the corner. Holding a finger up his lips, they stood quietly and listened. 

"Damn that Rhyno!" Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley whined. "He's messed up everything!" 

"But I don't understand," Debra started. "I thought you hated Chris Jericho. A gore off the stage would be a good thing." 

"I had other plans for Jericho. That gore had Kane's name written all over it. And once he was out of the way, I would put Y2J in a handicap match against the Dudley Boyz. A handicap tables match! That'll teach him to treat me like that." 

"But Chris calling you all those names isn't anything new. You'd think you'd be used to it by now." 

"I'm not talking about him!" Stephanie yelled. "I mean Kane. The other week I made him an offer that I thought he couldn't refuse." 

"You asked him to join the Alliance?" 

"Well... no... But.. You've seen him! The man is huge! You just know the man has to be hung right." 

"You wanted to sleep with him?!" Debra asked, incredulous. 

"Oh come off it! Hunter's on the injured list ... and... I'm a woman.. I've got needs.. and I'm sure that Kane can more than satisfy. But can you believe he had the gall to turn me down? Said I was a walking venereal disease! You think I would let him talk to me like that? Ohh no... he was gonna pay." 

"Well, I think he was disinterested for another reason..." 

"Like what?" 

"Well.. he and Chris.. you've seen them around each other..." 

"Yeah right! Like he'd turn me down for another man! Come on! I'm gonna give Rhyno a piece of my mind.. if he's regained consciousness." 

After the two women had walked away, Kane and Taker finally made their way around the corner. "Damn," Taker started. "I don't know what's worse... That you got propositioned by the Queen of the Sluts, or they way she handles rejection!" 

"I can't believe that crazy bitch pulled this stunt! Over a booty call, no less!" 

"Well, you're gonna get your match against Rhyno and rip his ass off!" 

"Yes!" 

"And we're gonna get back at Stephanie!" 

"Yes!" 

"And you're gonna tell Chris how you feel!" 

"No!" 

"Okay, okay... one step at a time. Let's check on Chris first." 


	5. Part V

**Tonight and the Rest of My Life**

Part V 

  


"Ooohh..." Chris moaned. The bright lights were blinding as he slowly tried to open his eyes. 

"Wakey, wakey sleeping beauty," Kurt said as he stood at the side of Chris's bed. 

"Where am I? How'd I get here?" 

"You're in the hospital. You got here in an ambulance." 

"The last thing I remember is shoving Kane out of the way. And then flying off the stage. And then I woke up here." 

"Well, you bounced off the barricade after Rhyno hit you. You busted your head open either on the railing or the ground. That would explain the bandages on your head. And the ones around your waist are from the gore itself." 

"Broken?" 

"Bruised ribs. Consider yourself lucky. I'll go tell the doctor you're awake." 

After Kurt left, Chris was left with his thoughts. He had to admit, he didn't remember any of the ambulance ride to the hospital. The last thing he could clearly see in his mind was the confused look in Kane's eyes after he had pushed him down. He was sure that there was a hint of pain in those soft blue eyes. Chris had never wanted to cause him pain and would've apologized if it weren't for the freight train known as Rhyno. He was sure that the doctor had given him some medication to ease the pain, which was why he wasn't writhing in agony at the moment. He promised himself to explain his actions to Kane as soon as he was able. The last thing he wanted to do was start back at square one when they had gotten so far. 

"So, the man lives" the doctor said as he entered the room. 

"Barely," Chris said, dryly. 

"You can't be in too much pain to make jokes. I'm Doctor Reed and I'm glad you're in good spirits. I'm afraid you're going to be out of the ring for at least 2 weeks. Think of it as a paid vacation." 

"I can barely contain myself." 

"Well, you seem to be okay at the moment. You think you could handle a visitor or two?" 

"I have visitors? Besides Kurt?" 

"Yes.. Two rather large ones I might add. I told the nurse to bring them in." 

Kane and Taker stepped in as the doctor stepped out. 

"How do you feel?" Kane asked, making his way to Chris's bedside. 

"Like I've been squashed by Rikishi after he ate 2 thanksgiving dinners." He noticed the look of concern in Kane's eyes and patted his hand reassuredly. "I'll be fine. I'm tougher than most give me credit for. Sorry about pushing you." 

"Forget about it. I was more worried about you. That fall looked really bad." 

"Well," Taker started, "I think I'll be going now. I just wanted to make sure you're brains weren't splattered all over the arena floor. I'll leave you two alone... to talk... about things." He glanced back at Kane before he left. 

There was a nervous silence between the two for a few minutes. Kane shifted from one foot to the other and Chris twiddled his thumbs. "So..." Chris sighed. "How's Rhyno? I hope he's in at least as much pain as I am." 

"Well, considering you broke his fall, he's only under light observation. He's out for a week." He saw the look of disappointment on Chris's face. "But I'm getting a match against him as soon as he returns. And I'm gonna hand him his ass. And then I'll teach Stephanie McMahon a lesson." 

"What does that ho have to do with this." 

"She gave the orders. As far as I'm concerned, she's as responsible for you being in here as Rhyno." 

"And you don't think she'll give the order to interfere in your match?" 

"I doubt it. Rhyno threw a bit of a wrench in her plans. I was supposed to get the gore and you were supposed to go through a table at the hands of the Dudleys." 

"Damn... I knew she could be cold... but this is down right vicious. I wonder what got into the Billion Dollar Princess." 

"It's what didn't get into her that's got her pissed." 

"What?" 

"I'll fill you in later when you're feeling better." 

"Sure." 

"Umm.. Chris?" Kane started. 

"Yeah?" he replied, looking into Kane's baby blues. 

"You know.. You're the closest thing I've had to a friend in a long time... And I don't know what I would do if you got really hurt... Cause.. Ya know... I've gotten used to you being around... And I wouldn't mind you being around more... Ya know..." 

"Yeah," he said, squeezing Kane's hand, "I know. And after I get out of here, we can hang out." 

"Okay," Kane said, his mood brightening. "I'll keep you to that promise when you're up and running again." 

"Don't even worry about it. Concentrate on what you're gonna do to Rhyno. I'll be cheering you on as loud as I can." 


	6. Part VI

**Author's Note:** A new chapter! Sure.. it only took six years... But here it is. Oh, and if these upcoming chapters seem a bit... wordy, it's because I'm still in Nano mode. The goal of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is to write a novel (50,000 words) in a month's time. For a 30 day month, that's 1,667 words a day. While I didn't complete the challenge, I did manage to pump out about 33,000 words (and, of course, that story is unfinished). So... Yeah... That's my explanation and I'm sticking to it.

Please enjoy!

**Tonight and the Rest of My Life  
**Part VI

Kane yanked open the door of his dressing room and came face to face with Rhyno. It had been exactly seven days since they Man-Beast had put Chris in the hospital and Kane was looking forward to breaking him in half. It had taken him this long to get Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley to agree to a No Disqualification match, Kane was willing to get the party started early.

"What do you want?" he growled, stepping out into the hallway. "Spit it out while you still have teeth."

Rhyno looked Kane up and down. "I just wanna talk." He took a cautious step forward. "No harm in talking, right?"

"Depends on the subject." Kane leaned back against the cement wall, crossing his massive arms across his equally massive chest. Rhyno followed his movements with his eyes with a look on his face that Kane found unnerving and disturbing. "So, spit it out already."

"I didn't mean to hurt Chris." Rhyno ran a hand nervously though his hair.

"Really?" Kane raised a skeptical eyebrow that went unnoticed behind his mask. Let me guess. You were running to give him a congratulatory hug and, in all the excitement, launched yourself at him?" He took a menacing step forward. "Is _that_ what happened?" Kane's angry voice bounced off the walls, reverberating along the corridor.

The man's outburst caused Rhyno to shrink back against the wall. "It was an accident," he whispered, eyes darting back and forth. His tongue darted out to wet his parched lips and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "And it wasn't my plan. You know me, Kane."

"Really?" He took another step forward and Rhyno tried to make himself one with the wall.

Rhyno licked his lips again. "I'm not a planner, Kane. I just do whatever is asked of me. Without fail. Without question."

"Like a good little soldier," Kane added.

"Stephanie McMahon—"

"I know all about the schemes of your Mistress, Rhyno. And I hope _you_ realize that she's pretty much handed you to me on a silver platter." His next step forward left them barely a hair's breadth apart. "So don't expect anyone to come running to your rescue when I'm stompin' your spleen beneath my boot." He placed his hands against the wall, on either side of Rhyno's head, trapping the shorter man even further, cutting off any hope of escape. He was the Big Red Machine, the stuff of nightmares, and he was on the verge of making Rhyno wet himself. Lowering his face so close to his opponent's that he could read the fear in his eyes and hear his ragged, shallow breaths, he rumbled, "I will destroy you." He pushed himself away from the wall, away from the quivering, quaking mess that was Rhyno, and strode down the hall.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," whimpered Rhyno as he slid down the wall, collapsing onto the cold, hard floor. "We weren't supposed to be enemies."

"But we are, Rhyno," shouted Kane. "We are."

Rhyno balled his hands into fists and struck them against the floor. "What makes him better than me?" he pleaded as Kane rounded the corner. "What has he got that I haven't?"

"A sense of humor," muttered Kane.

~*~*~

Through a wall of flames strode Kane, tall, strong, and with enough evil intentions to make the foulest demon quake. At the other end of that ramp, in the middle of that ring stood Rhyno, the man he was about to demolish. And he was going to enjoy every minute of it. He stepped over the top rope with practiced ease and circled his pretty. So intent was he that he failed to notice the announcer scuttle out of his path and out of the ring. There was no doubt that, taking one look at Kane's demeanor, their self-preservation mechanism had been triggered and they wanted to get the hell out of Dodge. A massacre was about to take place and the company did not pay them enough to put themselves in harm's way.

The bell sounded and Kane was on Rhyno like a pitbull on a smoked ham. There was no artistry in his technique, no finesse, no poetry. It was simply "hit him and keep hitting him until he stops moving". It was brutal the way he slammed Rhyno against the steel steps. It was ugly when he smashed the chair over the doomed man's head. Even Paul Heyman – the only man that could out-yap Jerry "The King" Lawler – was left speechless after Kane powerbombed his opponent onto the announcer's table.

Rhyno was a wreck by the time Kane dragged him back into the ring for the 3-count to end the match. Rhyno was bleeding from his nose, cradling his right arm, and could barely stand. However, much to Kane's surprise, he never backed down. Even with Kane's big boot pressed against his neck, he found on. Kane had to give him credit. As he set the man up for a chokeslam, he considered leaving him a note of admiration… as soon as he regained consciousness. And written in the man's own blood, of course.

After delivering his signature move with killer accuracy, Kane received another surprise courtesy of Test. Having failed to win his own match against Kurt Angle earlier that night, he had been sent to clean up another one of Little Steffie's messes. He snatched the bell from the ring announcer's lap and slid into the ring with it. Doing a quick side-step, Kane narrowly avoided getting hit with it. Kane disarmed Test quickly and set him about talking him apart. He drove Test into the corner and proceeded to beat out what little brains God had given him.

Pain flared in his left knee as he heard the bell sound. It had not been rung to end the match but, rather, used by Rhyno in an effort to incapacitate his opponent. The sound he'd heard was metal hitting bone. After another blow, Test slipped free.

Rhyno stood over Kane, the ring bell held above his head with both hands. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he spat. His blood landed on Kane's mask. "I chose _you_! I wanted to be with you!"

Kane grabbed hold of the ropes and tried to haul himself to his feet but his knee throbbed in protest. It would not support his weight so, reduced to crawling on all fours like a child, he tried to make an escape. He needed to regroup, fast. "I would rather stick my dick in a light socket," he growled.

Rhyno's scream of outrage was lost in the cheer of the crowd. Kane's one thought as the ring bell came down in an arc towards his head was, "I thought these people were on _our_ side."

The bell never made contact with his head. In the blink of an eye, Rhyno was kissing the mat. Standing over him like Don Juan Triumphant was Chris Jericho. The tapes would later show that, just as Rhyno was about to smash Kane's shull, Jericho bolted into the ring and delivered a Gore of his own to the rampaging Man-Beast. Chris had come to Kane's rescue yet again.

"Thanks," shouted Kane as he again tried to get to his feet.

"Thank me after you pin this asshole," Chris replied with his Signature Smirk. He kicked the bell out of the ring and grabbed the legs of a very dazed Rhyno. After positioning him just right, he took a running leap over the body, jumped off the middle rope and performed a Lionsault that had the crowd on its feet. The impact undoubtedly aggravated his already tender abdomen, but he wasn't one to let some minor discomfort keep him from having a hell of a good time. Clutching his ribs with a smile on his face, Chris Jericho uttered words he hoped he would never have to utter again. "Kane, you lie on that man right now!"

The throbbing in his knee having subsided slightly, Kane limped over to the fallen Rhyno. Beaten and humiliated, Kane almost felt sorry for the man. Almost. For the sake of ceremony – and for the benefit of those with flash photography – , he draped himself across Rhyno. The referee gave the old one-two-three, and the match was over.

"Here is your winner," shouted the announcer to the roaring crowd. "Kane!"

Like there had ever been a doubt.


	7. Part VII

**Tonight and the Rest of My Life  
**Part VII

"Boy, have you got chutney for brains?!" The Undertaker was never one to be found at a loss for words. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" He punched the locker above Chris' head.

Chris resisted rolling his eyes at him, knowing that it would be helpful to his condition. "I was helping Kane." He turned to the man sitting beside him on the bench. "Rhyno was about to clean his clock and I wasn't about to stand by and watch it happen."

"And what, in the name of Zeus' thunderbolt, were you doing here?" He poked Chris in the forehead with his finger. "You're not even supposed to be here."

Kurt Angle stepped between the two before Chris told 'Taker what he could do with his finger. "It was my fault," Kurt said. He kicked Chris in the ankle before he could add his two cents. "He said he wanted to see Kane beat Rhyno into a greasy stain and he _promised_," yet another kick to the ankle, "That he would stay backstage and watch on the monitor."

Chris folded his legs up on the bench before Kurt could give him another kick. "And if you hadn't gone off to suck face with 'Taker in the storage closet, _I_ wouldn't have had to take matters into my own hands."

Kane moved much faster than a man his size had any right to. It appeared it was now his turn to save Chris from an ass-kicking. Playing a game of musical benches, Chris slid to the left while Kane leapt up to take Chris's original spot on the bench. Thus sparing Chris a throttling the likes of which had only been seen on _The Simpsons_.

"Let's get our priorities straight here," Kane shouted, holding his brother at bay. "First of all, we are _never_ to talk about whatever happened in that storage closet. _Ever_." He waited for them all to agree before continuing. "More importantly, we got the job done. Rhyno is in immeasurable pain and his whole team is pissed off with him. Which means we can now move on to Phase Two of the plan."

Chris tapped Kane on the shoulder. "What's Phase Two?"

"'Taker, you get the room ready."

The Undertaker rubbed his hands together in a gleeful manner, like a child about to unwrap the biggest present under the Christmas tree. "Man, I've been _waitin'_ to use that video camera!"

Chris continued to tap insistently on Kane's shoulder. "What's Phase Two?" he repeated.

Kane turned to Kurt and said, "You take Chris back to his hotel room _and keep him there_. I know how much he loves to participate, but we don't need him sticking his nose where it doesn't belong."

Chris socked him in the arm, hard. "I _am_ in the room, you know."

"We know," grumbled 'Taker. "Lord, how we know…"

"Fine!" sniffed Chris. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"Since when?" interjected Kurt.

Chris ignored the snide and hurtful comment. "So what if I risked my health to save a friend." He picked imaginary lint from his pant leg. "So what if Stefanie 'I'll Show You A Good Time' McMahon-Helmsley is probably out putting a hit on me so bad it's make _The Godfather_ look like _Toy Story_." He sniffed again, loudly. "You guys go on with your plan. I'll just stay in my room, completely clueless, watching TV. If we hurry, I might be able to catch _Stargate_ on the SciFi channel."

Kane placed one hand gently on the back of Chris' neck. With the other under Chris' chin, he tipped Chris' head back until they were looking deeply into each others eyes. "Chris?" he asked, steadily holding the other man's gaze.

"Yes?" replied Chris.

"Quit acting pitiful before I strap you down and make you listen to Debbie Gibson."

This time, Chris let the eye-roll happen. "You gonna at least give me a hit about Phase Two?" He held his hand up in front of his face, his index finger and thumb just an inch apart. "Just a little hint, maybe?"

Kane shook his head. "Believe me. The less you know, the happier you'll be." He released his hold on Chris. "Synchronize your watches, gentlemen. Show time is in one hour."

~*~*~

There was a knock at the door as Kane lit the final candle. "Just a second," he called. He paused in front of the mirror by the door to check on his appearance. A black silk shirt with two buttons undone at the top and the tightest pair of jeans his brother had been able to find. If things did not progress quickly, he feared the effect the confining clothing would have on his reproductive abilities. He had kept the mask on, figuring his guest would prefer him that way.

After a second, more insistent knock, he put a smile on his face – unseen, of course – and opened the door.

Chris Jericho stood on the other side, grinning like a cat that had eaten an entire aviary. "Hey, good-lookin'," he chirped. "Whatcha got cookin'?" He shoved his way past Kane – a feat made possible only because the larger man was in a state of shock – and into the room.

The lights had been turned down low and there were lit candles flickering on every available surface. The candles troubled Chris for two reasons. One, Kane and fire went as well together as frat boys and beer pong. And two, this semi-romantic setting was obviously not set up for Chris' benefit.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kane hissed. He quickly checked the hallway before shutting the door.

"I'm startin' to get tired of people asking me that," muttered Chris. He approached a table set up in the center of the room. It was covered with a white linen tablecloth on top of which were set two champagne flutes and an ice bucket. "I am a master of skill and stealth," he said, in response to Kane's question. He removed the bottle that had been chilling in the container of ice and saw that it was a rather expensive brand of champagne. The kind that people purchased when they were really, really happy or hoped to get really, really lucky. And Kane, as far as Chris knew, was not a really, really happy kind of guy.

"What does that mean?" asked Kane. Displaying some stealth of his own, he had crossed the room with such silent speed that he was behind Chris, towering over him, as soon as he turned around. Kane snatched the bottle from Chris' hand and lightly placed it back into the bucket of ice.

Chris looked Kane up and down. His mask was still on, but that was hardly surprising since the man rarely removed it when he was in the presence of others. Even Chris had never seen his face, and he was the closest thing Kane had to a best friend at the moment. Chris still hoped that there would come a time when they would be more than just close friends. Getting Kane to take off his mask, Chris reasoned, would be the gigantic first step needed to get the ball rolling. Everything after that would be a walk in the park. Of course, nuclear physics seemed like a piece of cake compared to the work necessary to convince Kane to get rid of his security blanket.

"I snuck out when Kurt went to take a leak." He noted the bit of bare skin showing where the shirt was unbuttoned. It was just enough to hold a person's interest while still leaving something to their imagination. While Chris approved of the look, it still unsettled him that it was not being used exclusively for his benefit. His gaze naturally progressed down Kane's torso, where he resisted the urge to touch the divinely soft material, and settled on his lower half. Or, more precisely, the bulging focal point of Kane's lower half. "Hello…" Chris breathed.

"I knew I shoulda strapped you down."

At that particular moment, Chris did not think that that was a bad idea. It certainly had possibilities. He would have to remember to bring it up at a later date. Most likely after Kane had gotten over his trust issues. Maybe he could even talk him into wearing those pants again. "You gonna fill me in on Phase Two or am I gonna have to guess?" He took a seat in one of the chairs at the table. "And why in the blue blazes are you listening to Sarah McLachlan?"

Kane grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out of the chair, nearly knocking over the table. "I don't know what it is about me and blondes," he grumbled through gritted teeth as he dragged Chris towards the door, "but it is definitely unhealthy. First Tori and now you. What's next? Val Venis?"

"Hey!" shouted Chris, bringing Kane to a half before he could fling open the door. "There is _no one_ after me, pal." He got as up close and personal with Kane as was possible with them both being fully clothed. "I am the be all and end all." He seized Kane by his shirt collar. "I am the best there is, the best there ever was, and the best there ever will be." His breathing was heavy, his pulse was racing, and his nostrils flared as he sucked in much needed air that was tinged with the earthy scent of Kane's cologne. "I don't know about you," he murmured, still gripping firmly the fabric of Kane's shirt, "but I'm about ready to climb you like a tree."

Kane blinked at him. Words failed to form as his brain fixated itself on the image of Chris Jericho scaling him, wearing nothing but a hard hat and a pair of heavy duty work boots. He was once again grateful that his mask hid his features. Otherwise, Chris would see that he was blushing like a virgin receiving their first lap dance. And, of course, coupling "Chris" and "lap dance" in his lust-addled brain was not helping matters.

A knock at the door kept either man from acting on any carnal intentions. "Hellooo…" a voice screeched, killing the mood the way that hunter killed Bambi's mother. "Are you there, Kane?" There was another knock.

Kane, seeing Chris open his mouth to speak, clamped his hand over it before something vile and vicious could come tumbling out. The last thing he needed was Stephanie hearing one of Chris' snide remarks and becoming suspicious. He scanned the room, searching for a place to stow Chris until Phase Two had been completed. The bedroom was out of the question and he briefly contemplated tossing Chris out the window. They _were_ only on the second floor. In the end, he settled for the bathroom.

"Just a minute," Kane called, pulling Chris away from the door. Jericho put up quite a fight, so Kane resorted to lifting the man off his feet and carrying him the rest of the way. He removed his hand from Chris' mouth as he reached for the knob of the bathroom door.

Chris wasted no time speaking his mind. "What is the Billion Blowjob Princess doing knocking at your door?"

He rudely dumped Chris onto the bathroom floor. "Stay here," he growled, cutting off any protest. "And stay quiet. Or I'll give _you_ a beating you won't soon forget!" He slammed the door shut in Chris' face.


	8. Part VIII

**Tonight and the Rest of My Life  
**Part VIII

There were a number of sights Chris was prepared to behold moments before he died. A beautiful, brilliant white light. A beloved, long since-passed relative. Even a choir of angels. The Undertaker wearing a black, semi-transparent wife-beater and a pair of leather hot pants was nowhere near the top of that list.

"Chris Jericho," he spat, grabbing Chris by the shoulder and ejecting him from his hiding place. "If you don't quit being a thorn in my backside, not even my brother will be able to keep me from killing you."

"I'm jus trying to be helpful," replied Chris. He decided that commenting on the man's attire would only bring about a painful and sticky end.

"You're about as helpful as a grenade down the pants."

The candles had been snuffed out but wisps of smoke still curled from their blackened tips. The bottle of champagne was open and there was bubbly liquid in the glasses. A smudge of lipstick was around the rim of one of the glasses and both chairs had been pushed away from the table.

"Where's the Billion Dollar Mattress?" Chris asked. He hadn't heard her leave. Then again, he had no idea when Kane's brother had arrived. Though he had strained to hear from his prison, the voices had been muffled and he couldn't make out a word of their conversation.

The Undertaker shoved him into the bedroom. In the middle of the king-sized bed was Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley, unconscious and half naked. On the one side of the bed stood Kane, his shirt completely unbuttoned and his belt buckle undone. On the other side was Kurt Angle. He had a pair of blue fuzzy handcuffs in one hand and a camcorder in the other.

"Tell me this isn't as bad as it looks," said Chris as he moved to stand next to Kane.

"It's not as bad as it looks," said Kurt. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his back pocket. "Now put these on and help me move her."

"Jericho's not involved," The Undertaker stated, snatching the gloves from Kurt's outstretched hand. He pulled them on. "He's gonna go back to his room like a good little boy. That way, the less he knows the less he has to lie about." He snapped the gloves into place and glared at Chris like a rottweiler about to take a bite out of the mailman. "We clear?"

Chris looked from Stephanie to Kurt and then to the Undertaker. It certainly did seem like the less he knew, the better. "Like an aquarium."

Kane took him by the hand and led him from the room. "Somebody up there must like you, Chris," Kane said as he shut the bedroom door. "My brother usually doesn't give explanations."

Chris snagged the open bottle from the ice bucket. "You call that an explanation?"

Kane shrugged. "He used his mouth instead of his fist. That's the best anyone can hope for." He stopped Chris' hand before he touched the lipstick-stained glass. "Don't."

Intrigued, Chris asked, "You afraid someone's gonna call CSI?"

"You are going back to your room and I am going to make sure you stay there." He took the champagne bottle from Chris and headed for the door. "Besides, I can't stay here with Sleeping Beauty in there."

Chris had to run after him to catch up. Out in the hallway, he asked the question that had been nagging him the most. "She's not dead, is she? I mean, you didn't kill her with poisoned champagne and now you're getting rid of the evidence?"

"Chris, I just tried to seduce Stephanie McMahon, the boss' daughter. I think I'm gonna _need_ this alcohol." He pushed the button to call the elevator.

"You still haven't answered my question."

The number Two above the elevator lit up and the doors parted. "She is heavily sedated," replied Kane as he stepped into the elevator. "I drugged her glass, not the bottle. Now get the lead out. These pants are cutting off some vital circulation."

~*~*~

"So let me get this straight," Chris shouted from the bathroom. He unwrapped two of the paper cups located next to the sink. "You invite her to meet you for an illicit rendezvous that she actually agrees to." He stepped out into the main room.

"Shocking, I know," remarked Kane with more than a hint of cynicism in his voice.

"You drug her," Chris continued, pouring champagne into one of the paper cups. "And plan on taking naughty pictures of her?"

"Not so much naughty as… slightly disturbing." He took the offered cup and sat on one of the double beds.

Chris plopped down on the opposite bed. "Am I gonna get to _see_ these pictures?" He sipped from his cup and watched in bemusement as Kane lifted the cup to his mouth, only to find that his mask was in the way. "You're gonna have to take that off eventually, you know."

Kane shrugged indifferently. "A minor inconvenience," he said, placing his cup on the bedside table.

Chris was tempted to throw his cup at Kane's head but it would've been a waste of perfectly good alcohol. Kane was as stubborn as an inch-deep splinter and twice as difficult to maneuver. Chris could try the direct approach. Take a flying leap at him, pin him to the bed, and rip his mask off. Unfortunately, Kane was a foot taller and outweighed him by more than a hundred pounds. It was more likely that Kane would pick him off like a tick and pluck out Chris' nose hairs one by one.

A more delicate approach was necessary. Chris put on what he thought of as his Kind, Understanding Face and whispered, "Kane."

Kane reached behind his head, unfastened his mask, and tossed it in Jericho's lap. At Chris' confused look, he responded, "Taking it off was a hell of a lot less painful than listening to you rattle on about my trust and self-esteem issues." He downed his drink in one swallow and set about pacing the room. "And, for the record, I don't have self-esteem issues. I've made peace with my appearance. It's everyone else that has a problem with it. So save your pep talk for someone who needs it."

"I wasn't going to —"

"Oh, yes, you were," Kane interrupted. He refilled his cup. "I could see the wheels turning in your head and the smoke pouring out of your ears."

"Hey!"

"Your face is an open book sometimes, Jericho," said Kane. "Maybe you're the one who needs the mask." He poured champagne into Chris' neglected cup. "Then again, some believe that we all wear masks, hiding our true selves from the world."

"I see," remarked Jericho, sipping from his freshly filled cup. "You're a philosophical drunk."

Kane paused in his pacing and tilted his head to the side. He considered Chris' comment for about ten seconds before responding, "When people think you have the IQ of a guppy, they tend to leave you alone. It gives you a lot of time to think."

Chris took offense at that generalization. "I don't think you're dumb! For all we know, you could be a member of MENSA. You could probably make an atom smasher using only a rubber band, some Krazy Glue, and a can of Mountain Dew! But you never let anyone get close enough to find out. Hell, I don't even know when your birthday is!"

Kane returned to his place on the bed opposite Chris and stared into his empty cup. "Closeness is over-rated." He reached for the bottle on the bedside table. It was half-empty. "Besides, we can't all be beaming rays of sunshine like you."

Chris pulled the bottle out of Kane's reach. "Of course not. They broke the mold when they made me." He put the bottle on the floor, between the table and his bed. "But we're not talking about me. We're talking about you and your crappy outlook on life."

"I do not have a crappy…" His voice trailed off into nothing when he spied Chris' disbelieving look. He quickly conceded defeat. "So I'm Oscar the Grouch without the slimy but loveable sidekick. Are you happy now?"

The absurdity of the image of Kane popping out of a trash can and telling people to buzz off was almost too much. The fight to keep his composure was a hard one and a smirk accidentally slipped out. Maybe Kane was right about him needing a mask of his own.

Kane shook his head at Chris and his reaction. "I don't even know why I talk to you."

"It's too late," laughed Chris. "You're stuck with me!"

"I am extremely uncomfortable."

Chris leaned back on his bed and smiled at the ceiling. "It's called being in a relationship. Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

"That's not what I meant." Kane shifted uncomfortably and unbuckled his belt. "I swear, I don't know how I let my brother talk me into these."

Chris swiftly sat up in a manner much like that of Kane and the Undertaker. Seeing Kane struggling with his particularly clingy article of clothing, he was tempted to inquire if it were possible to talk to man _out_ of his pants. But he wasn't entirely confident that the remark would not result in a concussion. He would have to settle for watching Kane try to get out of them himself. It would probably be the oddest strip tease Chris had ever seen. "Your brother definitely has an odd taste in clothing. I never pegged him as a 'hot pants' type of guy."

"He lost a bet to Kurt," Kane said, undoing the button of his jeans. "Apparently, that outfit was just first in a long list of items. But as soon as there was mention of edible lube, I went straight to my Happy Place and ran Bugs Bunny cartoons through my head." He tugged at the zipper, but it would not budge. He tugged again. There was still no movement. "You gotta be kidding me," he mumbled.

This time, Chris did not bother to hide his amusement. He laughed until his sides ached as Kane cussed and fumbled at his misbehaving zipper.

"I'm gonna kill him," grunted Kane. He tugged at the material on either side of the zipper, reasoning that something must either be caught or in the way. He sincerely hoped that whatever it was did not belong to him. "I'm gonna stick him in a goddamn wood chipper and set fire to whatever's left of him!"

Chris, deciding that he wasn't a cruel man – and reckoned that too much more of this spectacle and he would wet himself –, offered to help Kane in his time of need. "Let me take a whack at it." He rose from the bed and took a step towards Kane, who promptly took a step back. It seemed that Kane was not very confident in Jericho's abilities. And Chris' choice of words may not have been encouraging. _Note to self_, thought Chris. _Do Not use the word "whack" when discussing a man's private area._ "My hands are smaller," he explained. "It'll be easier for me to grasp hold of… things." An unintentional smirk snuck onto his face as Kane took another shuffling step back, sitting down hard on the bed. Obviously, Kane did not want Chris anywhere near his things.

Chris was on him before he could put up any further protest. He knelt on the floor between Kane's legs and firmly grasped the zipper in his right hand while holding the area around it with his right. Chris was well aware that the area he was gripping as he tugged and pulled at the malfunctioning zipper was a delicate and vital part of Kane's anatomy. As the minutes ticked by, he wondered if Kane would comment about Jericho's actions. It could be that he was really too shy or too polite to say something about the current situation. Then again, Kane hadn't been too worried about common courtesy when he'd locked Chris in the bathroom.

He paused and looked up at Kane. The man's face was as read as a STOP sign and he was staring straight ahead. "Are you alright?" Chris asked, even though he knew the response would be a resounding "hell no".

"I'm fine," Kane responded, more than a hint of annoyance in his strained voice. "I'm in my Happy Place."

Chris resisted informing him that he had been fondling his happy place for the past five minutes. "Which episode?"

Kane smiled slightly yet still failed to look Chris in the eye. "The opera one, where Elmer's dressed as a Viking."

"You watched a lot of cartoons when you were a kid, huh?"

"It helped to pass the time." There was still no eye contact. "They had some pretty adult themes, ya know. For child programming. Gun safety. Animal rights. Environmental protection."

"Cross-dressing," Chris added. "And let's not forget that Porky Pig wore no pants."

"Indecent exposure."

"Maybe if I stuck my hand down your pants…" Chris mused aloud.

"What if I held you upside-down by your ankles and made a wish?"

"I'm serious!" huffed Chris.

"You think I'm not?" Kane countered.

Chris rose from his knees and dusted off his pants. "I think that if you were to lie on your back and I was to stick my hand down the front of your pants, just behind the zipper, I might be able to get it working."

Kane simply blinked at him. "There are so many things wrong with that idea; I don't even know where to begin."

"Okay. I'll just go and tell your brother that you're stuck in your pants." He moved as if to head for the door. "I'm sure he'll be _loads_ of help." Kane grabbed hold of his arm before he could take another step. Flashing that Jericho smile that was loved the world around, he said, "Trust me. It'll be fine."

Following Chris' instructions, Kane positioned his body fully on the bed. Or, as full as the bed would allow. It had not been made for a man of his stature and, as expected, his legs hung over the edge. "Tell me why I'm putting up with you and your knucklehead behavior."

Chris knelt beside Kane's prone body. "It's most likely the human drive for companionship. Like they say, 'Everybody needs somebody sometimes'."

"They also say, 'The man with cold hands gets a bloody nose'."

He shifted Kane's shirt out of the way and was momentarily transfixed by the tufts of curly, dusk-colored hair peaking out above the zipper. "You got any drawers under there, Sparky?"

"No." Kane chuckled darkly. "Surprisingly, there wasn't enough room!"


	9. Part IX

**Tonight and the Rest of My Life  
**Part IX

Struggling to balance 'Taker's video camera among the armful of sex toys – including a suction-cup mounted dildo, a semi-deflated sex doll named Delightful Delilah, and something called a Rabbit vibrator –, a bottle of lube, a tin of body glitter and an enormous stuffed bear named Sir Humpington, Kurt realized that retrieving his hotel room key card was not going to be a possibility. Not unless he managed to grow another arm. "A little help would be nice," he grumbled to his companion.

The Undertaker crossed his arms over his chest. He was able to do that because he wasn't carrying anything. He looked like an extra from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ and he had just committed acts that, in some jurisdictions, were felony offenses. In short, he was not in the most helpful of moods. "You look to be doing okay. You managed to veer around that little old lady and her walker without a word from me."

"Did she call us queer?"

"No. She said we were the queerest sight she's seen in a long while." He stuck his hand in Kurt's pants pocket."

"You could at least buy me a drink first," commented Kurt.

"I _could_ take this card and leave your ass standing here with Delilah."

In defiance, the card slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor. Swearing under his breath, 'Taker bent down to get it. From his position – bent in half with his ear pressed to the door – he managed to overhear, "You keep tugging on it like that, it's liable to snap clean off!" It was the voice of his brother and it did not sound like he was having a good time.

"If you would just relax and let me handle this…" With no mistake, 'Taker was sure that that voice belonged to Chris Jericho.

"It's the _way_ you're handling it that's got me worried," Kane complained. "Now move your hand and let me do it."

"You shut up and lay there! This isn't my first rodeo."

"Then you won't be surprised when I buck you off."

"Just as long as _you_ don't mind me putting the spurs to you."

Kurt nudged 'Taker in the ankle with his foot, causing Delilah to slip from the pile and flop onto the floor. "What's the hold up?" He did not appreciate 'Taker shushing him. His arms were tired, his lower back was one giant knot, and he had a headache blooming behind his eyes that would kill a bull. Maneuvering Stephanie's dead weight around the bed had been no easy task. She might not look like much, but, when completely unconscious, she weighed a ton. And now 'Taker was taking his sweet time getting the door open. "This load isn't getting any lighter, ya know."

"Will you shut up?" He swatted his hand in Kurt's general direction, coming in contact with one of the rubber toys. "I'm trying to listen!"

"Chris!" Kane shouted. "Chris, this isn't working! Let's just forget it and go to bed. We can have another go in the morning."

"Don't give up, you blockhead!" the Undertaker muttered. "Jeez… How difficult is it to fit Tab A into Slot B?"

"Are you talking to me?" Kurt asked.

"No. When have I ever called you a blockhead?"

"I dunno… You call me a lot of things in the heat of the moment."

Well, I never…"

"And I _do_ recall the time you asked me if I got an Olympic medal in pogo-stick riding."

"Are you gonna shut up or do I have to gag you?"

"Promise, promises…"

'Taker resumed his eavesdropping.

"What we need," said Chris, "is some lube."

'Taker punched the air with his fist. "Finally that boy is showing some brains!"

"What, you got some WD-40 in your gym bag?" Kane inquired.

'Taker began to wonder exactly what kinds of sexual experiences his brother has had. Given his run of bad luck and his poor choice in friends, not to mention his dysfunctional upbringing, it would be the least bit surprising to learn that the boy had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He would have to remember to stop by a bookstore in the morning and purchase his baby brother some highly informative reading materials. He wondered if they made a gay _Kama Sutra_.

"You said that Kurt has some edible lube," Chris replied. "We can use some of that."

"If you're that hungry, I can order us a pizza."

"Careful… You might cut yourself on that sharp wit of yours… Now hold still and let me put this on you."

If not for fear of interrupting what little progress was being made in his brother's social life, 'Taker would have burst through the door at that moment. Instead, he waited patiently for the sounds of their coupling to drift through the wooden door. Anyone happening to come across him might think he was being a pervert – especially once they caught sight of Kurt and his armful of goodies – but the truth of that matter was that he was proud that his baby brother was in a normal, healthy relationship. Well, as normal and healthy as one can expect from the seed of Paul Bearer.

"This has got to be the most immoral thing I have ever seen you do," commented Kurt. Having realized that he wasn't getting into his room anytime soon, he had deposited his load as well as himself onto the floor, beside the crouched Undertaker. He waved the suction-cupped dildo under 'Taker's nose. "And that's including the time you made me shave off all my body hair so you could eat tiramisu off my naked body… Said you didn't like hair in your food."

'Taker batted the sex toy out of his face. "First of all, leave that alone until we get it disinfected. And second, I don't recall you complaining when I was sucking cream out of your navel."

"But I was the one that had to explain the mess to the cleaning staff. Thank goodness we put up that Do Not Disturb sign otherwise would've really been embarrassed."

'Taker rose to his full height. Looking down at Kurt, he said, "I am never embarrassed."

"What about that time you went to get some ice from the machine and got locked out?"

His left eye twitched ever so slightly. "I was not embarrassed."

Kurt pointed the dildo at him again. "You were wearing nothing but a g-string."

The big man finally snapped. "It was your idea and I am never doing that again! Do you have any idea how much those things ride up? It damn near separated my twig from my berries!"

Kurt smiled a lecherous smile that was seldom seen on the face of the Olympic champion. It was a smile that the Undertaker knew well. "But didn't you look good enough to suck?"

If 'Taker were the type of man to blush, his head would resemble Jupiter's Great Red Spot. However, he was not that type of man. With cocky assurance, he replied, "Yes. Yes, I did." And maybe, just maybe, he would give that g-string another try. If only to see Kurt smile like that again.

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Chris. Both 'Taker and Kurt moved to press their ears against the door. "Oh God, its working!"

"Keep going, keep going, keep going," chanted Kane. "We're almost there… almost to the bottom!"

"God, it feels so good to be me!"

"Bless you and your small hands."

There was a pause and both men in the hallway leaned heavily against the door, not caring if they broke through to the other side. After the longest minute and a half that either of them could remember, the silence was broken."

"Chris… you can move now…"

"In a minute… Just let me savor this moment."

"The first time you were right or the first time I let you in my pants?"

"I just can't believe you got that in there. How did you manage to fit it all?"

"Getting it in was easy. It's getting it out that's the trick."

Kurt and 'Taker knocked their heads together as each dove for the key card that was still lying on the floor. They were slightly more graceful in getting the door open and quietly crept into the room.

On the bed, as they expected, were Kane and Chris. What they could not understand was why the two men were still fully clothed. After closer inspection, however, it became clear that Kane was a little less fully clothed than his partner. His pants were wide open and Chris was staring at Kane's exposed body like a starving man set before an All You Can Eat buffet. The intruders watched, wide-eyed, as Chris placed a kiss on the spot just below Kane's belly button. He followed that kiss with a series of others, blazing a trail from one hip to the other. Kane exhaled heavily; his eyes closed, hair covered half his face, and lips parted.

Chris returned to the spot just below Kane's belly button. He kissed it gently and ran a finger along Kane's happy trail. "You like that?"

Kane smiled, but did not open his eyes. "I could get used to it."

"What about this?" He moved half an inch lower and pressed his mouth against the warm skin there. He hummed slightly and felt Kane's muscles ripple beneath his lips. Fine hairs tickled his tongue when he flicked it out for a taste. Kane's skin smelled of soap, sweat, and something Chris could not identify. The mixture aroused him in a way that no other had.

He kissed lower and lower still until he reached the base of his lover's cock. Nose nestled in the coarse hair growing there, he inhaled deeply the scent that was uniquely Kane's. "God, you smell good," he breathed.

"Chris!" Kane gasped. At the jet of hot air on his most private of parts, Kane's hips lifted themselves off the mattress.

"You like that, too?" Chris whispered. He pressed his nose deeper into that curly patch and, after getting himself another sniff of the man that was driving him crazy, breathed hot air onto that sensitive flesh. He was rewarded with another lift of the hips and wasted no time working Kane's pants down. There was still so much more of his to smell and to taste.

He wrapped his hand around Kane and simply held him, felling him throb against his palm. As Kane groaned his name again, he wondered how many people had had the pleasure of pleasuring this man in this particular way. And what kind of idiot would refuse to do so? "Tell me what you what," he sighed, his lips ghosting across the tender flesh.

"Chris…" Kane could barely get in enough air to say his name, let alone give a detailed description of what he needed. Chris was touching him the way no other person had before. And no one had ever, _ever_ kissed him like this. All he knew was that he never wanted Chris to stop.

"Just tell me what you want." He slid his hand along his length, briefly rubbing the tip with his thumb before stroking back down to the bottom. He repeated the movement several times while teasing the underside of his cock with his tongue and lips. "I want to hear you say it."

Kane tangled his hands in the bed sheets for fear of accidentally causing Chris harm by yanking his head to where he wanted him the most. "I want…you… Chris." The room was too hot, his mouth was too dry, and his brain was too far gone for him to form more coherent sentences. He wanted Chris to keep touching him. He wanted Chris to suck the tip of his cock. He wanted Chris to slide his cock as far down his throat as he could without killing either one of them. He just wanted Chris.

Chris squeezed his lover's cock tighter, stroke him faster, delighting in every groan and gasp he milked from him. It amazed him the kind of power he wielded over this usually strong and capable man. He could make him beg and plead. He could make him cry out in pleasure or frustration. He could make him come. Yet all he wanted was to hear him say it, to hear those words come from those lips. "Where?" he whispered, his lips a breath away from the tip. "Here?" He ran his tongue up and down, back and forth along the underside of his length, where the shaft met the tip.

"Chris…" There were no words to describe how good it felt when Chris licked him like that or how happy he was that Chris wanted to lick him like that. So he poured every emotion, every desire he had into that one beautiful, perfect name.

In the end, Kane never had to tell Chris what he wanted. He only had to promise to always say his name like _that_.

**END**


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